Undone
by Alleyprowler
Summary: Betrayal and justice as seen from Wufei's point of view. Pairings: 3x2, 54 implied 1x2 and 3x4. Quatre torture and Wufei angst.
1. He's Come Undone

**Disclaimer: The Mobile Suit: Gundam Wing characters used within this story are © Bandai, Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, etc. This work of fiction is intended for free entertainment purposes only. It is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.**  
**Title:** Undone, part 1/2  
**Author:** Alleyprowler  
**Rating:** R  
**Pairings:** 3x2, 3x4, 1x2, 5+4  
**Warnings:** Shounen-ai, angst, adult themes, Wufei POV.  
**Location:** Earth, northern hemisphere.  
======================================================= 

I don't know how I got into this. I certainly didn't ask to be where I was at the time, nor to be privy to the kinds of things I was privy to. I am exactly the last person who should have been standing there in the short hallway between my bedroom in the safehouse and the room Trowa used to share with Quatre. I did not need to know that Trowa was in that room doing…unspeakable things with Duo. I didn't need to see Quatre, looking pale and exhausted and nearly dead on his feet after a mission, slowly push open that door, and then just as slowly close it again before turning in my direction. 

But I did. His eyes, bright with unshed tears, met mine. "Did you know?" He whispered to me.

Nataku forgive me, I knew. I couldn't bring myself to say the words to Quatre, but he saw the answer on my face and read it in my heart. I hung my head in shame.

He took a step or two toward the staircase that would take him to the main floor of the house, but then he faltered and would have collapsed to the floor if I hadn't caught him. As it was, we made no more noise than mice while Duo and Trowa grunted and gasped out their passion a short distance away.

========================================================== 

I took him to my own room to recover. I know very little about matters of the heart, but I imagine it must be shocking to come home to see your lover in the arms of your best friend. Also, Quatre's mission hadn't gone all that well, as I found out later. Some time in the past six weeks, OZ had finally gotten it through their thick skulls that their security ranged from pathetic to non-existent on most of their bases, and they had proceeded to rectify the situation right in the middle of Quatre's job. He had spent three hungry, thirsty days crawling around in ventilation ducts, elevator shafts, and even sewage pipes before he'd found a way to get off the base undetected. 

I didn't know that then, of course. All I knew was he was unconscious, unhealthily pale, and he smelled bad. I didn't know what to do with him. I couldn't make him go back to his original room, to sleep on the defiled bed and breathe in the tainted air, but then again, I didn't know if I could let him stay with me. Perhaps the sofa?

He started to make 'coming around' noises. I just sat and watched him, letting him wake at his own pace. "Wufei? Did I just have a nightmare?" He asked me when he was fully aware of his surroundings.

I knew what he was really asking me—did he actually see what he thought he'd seen? "No, Winner. That wasn't a nightmare. I'm sorry."

He pushed himself upright and stared at me with eyes that had gone from a vibrant blue-green to a flat, dead grey. "Then could I get you to do me a favor?" His voice had lost its cheerful lilt. Like his eyes, it was flat and dead.

"That depends on what it is." I said. If he was going to ask me for a weapon, I was going to refuse and perhaps tie him up and throw him in a closet.

"Would you please bring me my duffle? It's in that room." He pointed to indicate the room he used to share with Trowa—not "my" room, or"our" room, but "that" room.

I was suspicious. "What do you need out of it?"

"Clothes, and my shower kit. I need to get cleaned up." He paused. "I think I'll sleep in Sandrock tonight."

I sighed. What an unholy mess! "I'll bring you your duffle, but I'm going to go through it while you shower and I am going to remove anything dangerous from it."

He didn't argue, which frightened me. "That's probably a good idea," he said in a low voice.

========================================================== 

If I hadn't been so angry I doubt I would have been able to summon the courage to knock on that door of "that" room. As it was, however, I was almost ready to kick it down regardless of what depraved things those two were doing behind it.

"Just a second!" Came Trowa's voice, sounding uncharacteristically flustered. There was some scuffling, and then he opened the door a little and peered out at me from behind that waterfall of hair. "Yes, Wufei?"

The door was only open about five centimeters, so I couldn't see much of anything but half of Trowa's face, but I swear I could smell sex in the air. "Give me Quatre's duffle." 

His one visible green eye widened in surprise. "His duffle? What for?"

"He asked me to get it for him."

Trowa went chalk white. I almost hoped _he_ would collapse from shock so that I could watch him slam painfully to the floor. I certainly wasn't going to catch him. "I didn't know he was back," he said in a weak voice.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Well, obviously. Are you going to give it to me or am I going to have to barge in there and retrieve it myself?"

Trowa had the grace to blush at that. "I'll get it—one second." He closed the door. Good, at least that meant he was ashamed of himself.

When the door opened again, Trowa refused to meet my eyes. He simply held the dull green bag out to me and let me snatch it out of his hand before pulling the door back closed. Honorless bastard.

Back in my room, I let Quatre remove his bathing things from the bag—all except the razor. "No, not that," I said simply, and he let me take it out of his hands without protest. At 15 years of age, shaving can wait. He collected up his towel, washcloth, soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush and a fresh change of clothing, and then headed for the shower while I dumped the rest of his things on the floor.

I was thorough. I went through the pockets of all of his clothes, flipped through the dozen or so books he had, took apart his portable CD player, and looked through all his discs. In the end, I confiscated one pair of lockpicks, two oddly ornamental curved daggers, his sidearm, the razor blades from his medkit, a couple of blasting caps, Sandrock's self-detonation device and a tube of sexual lubricant. He wouldn't be needing that in the near future, and I didn't want him to come across it unexpectedly and have it trigger memories.

When he came back into my room after he had showered and dressed, I displayed the things I had taken from him, and he nodded his approval. "Those daggers aren't useful for anything but opening envelopes, and I doubt they're sharp enough for that. They're reproductions for display." He said in his new, flat voice. "But thank you for taking them out anyway."

"Are they gifts?" I asked. Although useless for combat, the silver blades in their black leather and worked silver sheaths were beautiful.

He nodded. "For my nephews, Rafiq and Numair. They are Iria's sons. I thought they might like a memento of Earth."

Iria was one of Quatre's sisters, the one who had died protecting him when OZ had attacked the Winner estate on L4. He had lost his father in the same attack. Those boys would be very special to him, then. "You must love them very much." 

He looked down at the ornate weapons with his empty, soulless eyes. "Love? What is that?" He asked. He picked up the green duffle bag from the floor, slung it over his shoulder, and walked away.

========================================================== 

Dinner that evening was a tense affair. None of us had any appetite, but we were all forcing the food down as if we hadn't a care in the world in spite of Duo's red, tear-swollen eyes, Trowa's defeated posture, or my rigid indignation. There was no conversation, which I normally approve of, but things needed to be said.

"Heero is due back tomorrow." I said shortly. 

Duo sniffled.

"We know." Trowa said softly.

"Is there going to be another scene like this afternoon when he comes back?" I asked.

Duo shook his head.

"No, Wufei." Trowa whispered.

This wasn't going anywhere. "Are you going to tell him?" I demanded. 

Duo finally spoke up. "No!" He shouted. Never one to make a point lightly, he grabbed his fork and brought it tines-down into the table as hard as he could. "No!" He can't know about this!"

At that outburst, we all stopped even pretending to eat. I leaned back in my chair and stared at them both "And why is that? Are you ashamed?" I challenged. "Was this just a casual fling?"

Duo shoved his half-filled plate to the floor and collapsed on the table with his head in his arms, sobbing loudly. I wasn't moved. He was going to clean that up later.

Trowa put his hands passively into his lap. "Is Quatre all right?" 

"No." I said. I did not elaborate. Let him draw his own conclusions.

Trowa's head dropped slowly to his chest, and I heard him begin to sniffle softly.

"Pathetic!" I spat. "Both of you are just pathetic! Why in the nine hells are _you_ two crying? You both got what you wanted! Quatre and Heero were out risking their lives while you two were screwing like rabid ferrets, only Quatre happened to come by at an inconvenient moment. Well, isn't that a shame? Now your little tryst is broken up. Let me be the first to congratulate you on pulling your heads out of your asses. Trowa, don't you realize Quatre loves you more than he loves life itself? Duo, don't you know that he respects you and looks up to you as a brother? You are the most important two people in his life, and you've torn him apart! He's dead inside, and you two killed him!" 

By this point they were both weeping in a completely undignified manner, but once I begin to rant, it's very hard for me to stop.

"You should see his eyes. You know Quatre's eyes, how bright and alive they were? Well, they're cold and grey and dead now, thanks to you. His voice, do you remember that voice? That voice that could cheer up an entire funeral? It's gone. It's empty and hollow and *dead*. He's given up on life. I had to go through that duffle bag, Trowa, because I wanted to make sure he didn't have anything in there he could hurt himself with. Yes, you heard me correctly. I even took out the harmless souvenir daggers he bought for his nephews, but he gave me instructions on where to deliver them." He hadn't, really, but the look of pain on Trowa's face was worth the lie. "And he _agreed_ to it. I wouldn't even let him shave because I thought he could hurt himself with the razor, and he agreed to that, too! He couldn't even trust himself with a fucking safety razor!"

Normally I don't use coarse language, but this was an emergency.

"You know what? You two can keep fucking each other silly for all I care. Just don't let Heero find out, all right? You should be satisfied with breaking Quatre, who at least has the wealth to be placed in a nice lunatic asylum for the rest of his life. Do not inflict that on Heero. For once in his life, he believed he's found someone to love him and three other people to be his true friends. If you fuck that up, Duo, so help me…" I let the threat hang.

"I'm s-s-sorry!" Duo sobbed.

Trowa wiped his eyes, which were red. His whole face was red, actually. "Is Quatre going to be okay?"

I glared at him.

"No. Neither am I. Neither is Duo, or you. None of us are going to be all right." I got up and stomped off to my room.

========================================================== 

I admit my tactics with Trowa and Duo were a bit…theatrical, especially that last part. Maxwell must be rubbing off on me. I further admit that I felt much better for it, though. The injustice of it all had been seething in my chest and stomach ever since I saw Quatre closing the door to "that" room, and somehow the verbal battering had relieved some of the pressure.

I was tired. As usual after I vent some of my anger, I was ready to lie down and sleep for a solid week, war be damned. I honestly don't know how Duo and Quatre can live in a constant state of emotional flux as they do—it's terribly wearing. But then, that was probably why Quatre had shut himself down like he did. The human mind and body, amazingly resilient as they are, can only take so much.

I didn't bother with my evening stretching exercises or meditation; I just threw myself on the bed and sank into sleep like a child.

========================================================== 

The atmosphere inside the house could only be described as stormy. Duo was sulking, Trowa was depressed, I was still bristling, and none of us could bring ourselves to meet each other's eyes. I had to get out. I had to see how Quatre was doing.

First, though, I cooked a meal of rice and vegetables and chicken, put it into two thermal containers, and shoved it into my backpack along with a couple of bottles of fruit juice. Quatre likes my cooking and tells me so. Duo bemoans the lack of excess fats and salts and other things that he seems to thrive on while remaining whip-thin, and claims I'm trying to give him malnutrition. Trowa and Heero pretty much eat whatever you put in front of them without comment, whether it's pizza or rat poison on toast. I sometimes wonder if they have any sense of taste at all.

Well, they both lusted after Duo, so maybe they didn't.

I shouldered my backpack and left the house without a word to Trowa or Duo. You know, I didn't really hate them, although my words may lead you to believe otherwise. I was disappointed with them, and disgusted, and furious, but I didn't hate them. I was taught not to hate weakness, but to pity it. But I could not feel pity. I was irritated with Duo's need to be in the spotlight, with his emotional neediness, his attention-seeking behavior. And Trowa…well, I just expected better from him. I sincerely thought he had more self-control than that. What had that braided slut done to make him betray the person who loved him?

I stopped walking. I was giving in to my rage again. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Better.

After a bit of stumbling around in the woods, I found Sandrock in its usual hiding place. Quatre was crouched down by its left ankle, tinkering with something inside a panel. I guessed it was the controller for the lift cable, since that's more or less where it is on Nataku. I stopped some distance away, not wishing to startle him.

"Quatre?"

He leaned back, sitting on his heels to look at me. Gods, he looked awful. His eyes were still that flat grey, and his skin seemed to have a greyish cast to it. Even his hair seemed to have lost its color. He looked like a ghost. "Hi, Wufei," he greeted tonelessly, and went back to whatever he was doing on Sandrock.

I sat down on the Gundam's foot. "Something wrong with the lift cable?"

He shrugged. "Not really, it's just a bit slow and it has a little hitch about halfway up. I sanded off some rust off the cable itself and that seemed to help. I'm just tinkering." He admitted.

I snorted. "Maxwell says that idle hands do the devil's work."

His shoulders stiffened at the mention of Maxwell, and I mentally kicked myself.

"I brought some lunch," I said quickly, trying to cover my faux pas. "Would you like to eat? It must have been a while since you've had a hot meal."

He shrugged, but he closed the panel and came to sit next to me. I distributed the food and drinks and began to eat. I was hungry. It had been impossible to eat breakfast that morning. Quatre ate slowly, either out of lack of appetite or due to the fact that he's still a bit clumsy with chopsticks. Probably both.

"What have you been eating, if anything?" I asked. He was wearing an oversized mechanic's coverall that hid the shape of his body, but his wrists looked matchstick-thin and his cheeks were hollow.

"I have lots of ration bars in Sandrock." He said. He very carefully didn't mention whether he'd been eating them or not.

"Did you sleep all right?"

He nodded. "It got a little cold, but yes, I slept."

I bit back a sigh. Quatre was capable of giving non-answers to even the most straightforward of questions. It's a tactic that comes in handy a lot of times, but it drives me crazy when he uses it on me.

"I just want to know if you're taking care of yourself." I said. I could hear the edge of frustration in my voice.

He gave me the ghost of a smile. "Thank you, but you don't need to worry about me, Wufei." He closed the lid of his thermal bento box. "And thank you for lunch, too. It was very good, as always."

I took the box and opened it. "Then why didn't you eat any of it?" I said with a scowl. I held out the barely-touched meal accusingly. "Quatre, I know you are having a very difficult time right now, but I cannot allow you to make yourself ill over it. You have responsibilities bigger than your interpersonal relationships. Don't forget there's a war going on. Now eat!"

One thing about Quatre, he's very easy to bully. All you have to do is appeal to his sense of responsibility, or guilt, and he crumbles. It used to make me furious whenever I saw Maxwell using it to talk Quatre into doing something that he didn't want to do, but I felt no remorse in using it myself. After all, I was only trying to help him, right?

I saw a flicker of…something…in his eyes. Surprise? Fear? He slowly took the box and the chopsticks and began to eat. I watched him like a hawk. When he slowed down, I nudged him and urged him to continue. He got about halfway through the box before his leaden complexion went pale green and he bolted up to go vomit in the bushes.

Oh, Ancestors. I am an insensitive bully.

"Quatre, I'm so sorry." I put one hand on his heaving back and supported his head with the other one.

"No…I should have…said something." He choked out. He finished emptying his stomach, then got up and kicked leaves and dirt over the mess. "When I'm upset, my stomach sometimes rebels on me." He said apologetically. I held on to him as he walked back to Sandrock and sat down on its foot. He was shaking. "It'll calm down eventually." He rinsed his mouth out with apple juice and spat it out.

I felt horrible. "Quatre, won't you come back to the safehouse? You can stay with me in my room."

"Thank you, Wufei, but I'd rather be alone right now. I need to focus on something." He waved his hand to indicate Sandrock.

"All right. I'll bring you some more food and some blankets later."

He gave me another one of those spectral smiles. "Thanks, Wufei." He picked up his screwdriver and went back to whatever he was doing to his mecha, and I went back to the hell that was our safehouse.

========================================================== 

By the time I was ready to go back to see Quatre that evening, I was beginning to think he had the right idea by staying in his Gundam. Duo and Trowa felt they were back on speaking terms with me—or meaningful-look terms, in Trowa's case—and Duo was, of course, still trying to appease his guilt over Quatre.

"He's doing okay, isn't he?" He asked, begging me with his eyes to say yes.

I glared at him. "He's not 'doing okay', Maxwell. He's exiled himself to his Gundam, he looks like hell, and he cannot even eat." I snapped.

Trowa actually spoke up at that. "What do you mean, he can't eat?"

"I mean exactly that. I brought him some food this afternoon and he couldn't eat it. He tried, but he was sick immediately afterwards." I left out the part about me practically force-feeding him. I don't think that would have gone over very well.

Trowa let his hair fall over his eyes and Duo's lower lip began to quiver. They were both the very picture of misery. Good.

"However, I will be dining with _him_ tonight," I said, "so if either of you have any idea what he might be able to eat, I suggest you cook it. Excuse me, I need to practice my katas." I turned on my heel and began to do exactly that.

The exercise was precisely what I needed. I hadn't really done any for the last two days, and my body was practically quivering with pent-up energy. It felt glorious to move myself and my katana through the ancient patterns in the crisp autumn air, and it left my mind free to analyze things.

Obviously Duo and Trowa were going to have to work things out between themselves, if they hadn't already. After that, Duo was going to have to decide whether to let Heero in on things or not, and Trowa was going to have to decide what to do about Quatre. My role, if I had one, was to see that justice was carried out. And to do that, I had to protect Quatre. He was slowly killing himself with grief—even I could see that. I had to keep him safe long enough for this to be resolved.

And when Heero came back…well, I'd cross that hurdle when I came to it.

========================================================== 

It was dark when I went to go take our evening meal to Sandrock's hiding place, and I had to use a flashlight. Flashlights make me nervous. They draw attention to you at night. I walked faster and faster until I was almost running, and I was quite out of breath when I finally got to Sandrock.

Quatre had built a fire between the Gundam's feet, and he was sitting with his knees against his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs, staring at the flames. He looked very small in his oversized parka.

"Quatre, it's me," I panted when I stepped into the circle of light. You just don't sneak up on a Gundam pilot, even an unarmed and deeply depressed one. It isn't good for your health.

"I heard you coming a long way away." He said, not looking up. "Why were you running?"

I simply held up the flashlight, and he nodded. He understood. I sat down across the fire from him and began to rummage through my backpack. "I brought you a couple of blankets…some food…tea…oh, and some books I thought you might like." I laid the items in a neat pile beside him.

He gave me a curious look. "Books?"

"Novels. Tang Zhoun is very popular in China these days, and I thought you might enjoy his writing." For some reason I felt embarrassed as I said this. Was I being too presumptuous? I quickly handed him the box that Trowa had packed for him, and opened mine. "Let's eat."

He blinked at me. "Wufei, you don't have to eat with me…"

I snorted and swallowed the mouthful of spaghetti I'd been chewing on. "Quatre, do you have any idea what it's like back at the safehouse? It's hell. I can't eat there; the food goes sour in my stomach."

He poked at his food. "I hadn't really thought about it. It must be a bit tense."

"Tense! That must be the understatement of an age!"

He wound a single strand of pasta around his fork and nibbled it experimentally. "Trowa made this." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I told them about your nervous stomach, so he made something bland."

"He never did put enough garlic in. Pasta needs lots of garlic and basil and pepper, not just tomato sauce."

The rest of the meal passed like that. We talked about nothing in particular, ate our food and sipped our tea and tended the fire. It was pleasant. I hadn't realized how tense I'd been all day until then.

Eventually it began to get too cold to sit outside, so I said my goodnights, sent Quatre up to Sandrock's cockpit with his books and blankets, and I jogged back to the safehouse.

I almost crashed into the motorcycle parked outside. Heero was back.

========================================================== 

I found the three of them in the kitchen. Heero, shirtless and weary-looking, was sitting on the kitchen table having a nasty gash on his arm attended to by a fussing Duo, and Trowa was silently assisting him.

"Looks painful," I remarked. It looked like a gunshot wound.

"I've had worse." Heero said in typical Heero fashion. 

"Is OZ still ramping up security?"

He gave a frustrated sigh. "Yes, but they haven't got the personnel for it. They're using raw recruits, and from the look of things, they aren't even bothering to train them."

That was bad. Untrained recruits did not make good guards. They tended to get bored and distracted easily, or they tended to get nervous and trigger-happy. I doubted that any of them were crack marksmen, either. "How many were there?"

"Forty on the perimeter alone."

Duo whistled, impressed. "Man, that's a little bit of overkill."

Heero snorted contemptuously. "They weren't the problem, it was the guards _inside_ the compound who got me. They were dressed identically to the technicians, so I didn't know who to target." He flinched a bit as Duo tied off a stitch. "It didn't help that the techs were as heavily armed as the guards, either. Not to mention they were better shots." He looked down at his injured arm.

I bit down a curse and left the room. 

~~END UNDONE 1~~


	2. Binding wounds

**Disclaimer: The Mobile Suit: Gundam Wing characters used within this story are © Bandai, Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, etc. This work of fiction is intended for free entertainment purposes only. It is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.**  
**Title:** Undone, part 2/2  
**Author:** Alleyprowler  
**Rating:** R  
**Pairings:** 3x2, 3x4, 1x2, 5+4  
**Warnings:** Shounen-ai, angst, adult themes, Wufei POV.

**Location:** Earth, northern hemisphere. 

==========================================================

It rained the next day, and the next, and the next. Of course, that wasn't unusual for the time of year and the location, but I'm still wary of rain. Actually, all of Earth's meteorological temper tantrums make me a bit nervous. I wonder if I'll ever get used to it. 

I spent my days talking to Heero, reading, avoiding Duo and Trowa, and, of course, taking most of my meals with Quatre. He had rigged up a sort of shelter under Sandrock with ropes and a tarpaulin so that we could eat by the fire pit and stay more-or-less dry and warm while the never-ending rain poured down. I was really beginning to enjoy the ritual of eating out in the fresh air with a quiet, undemanding companion rather than in the cramped, Duo-infested kitchen back at the safehouse.

I don't know if Quatre felt the same way. I didn't know how he felt at all, which was odd, since he's usually open with his emotions. We talked about books, and music, and philosophy, and the war—neutral subjects, for the most part. If Duo or Trowa were mentioned, he would change the subject so smoothly that I hardly realized that he'd done it, but other than that, he talked about whatever I wanted to talk about. He was…passive.

Almost a week had gone by. One early afternoon I was about to leave the house with our lunches when Heero startled me by asking if he could join us. "Well, I-I don't see why not," I said, not very smoothly. "I'll make some more soup."

"Hn." Heero went to go change into more suitable clothing for the weather.

========================================================== 

Quatre seemed surprised to see Heero, but no more surprised than Heero was to see Quatre.

"Quatre?" Heero said in an alarmed voice.

Quatre stepped back. "H-Heero. What are you doing here?"

Heero ignored the question. "What's wrong with you? You look awful!"

Tact was never one of Heero's strong points. I stepped in between them. "Heero, Quatre's had a great shock, but he'll be all right."

He glared at me. "I'm not talking about his mental state. He looks ill." He glanced sharply at the blond. "How long has he had that cough?"

Quatre had come down with a cold after the first rainy day, and I'd pretty much tuned out his sniffling and sneezing and coughing. He had assured me so many times that it was nothing that I eventually went along with it. "I don't know. A few days, maybe." I said uncomfortably.

Heero frowned. "Quatre, come here." He ordered. I watched in dismay as Quatre dragged himself unwillingly around the fire pit to stand in front of Heero. He was trembling all over.

Heero brushed aside Quatre's dripping blond bangs, and then felt his forehead. He turned to me with a scowl. "And how long has he had a fever?"

My hand flew to cup his cheek, then slid over his rain-wet forehead. He felt hot. "Quatre, why didn't you say you felt ill?" I demanded.

He cringed away from me. "I thought you might make me go back to that house." He said in a small, frightened voice.

"You were correct." I said. I grabbed his wrist. "You are going to—"

"Wait." Heero said to me. He turned back to Quatre. "Why are you so afraid of going back to that house?"

Quatre's wide, frightened gaze went from me to Heero and back… "I just can't." He concluded. His shivers intensified.

I put an arm around his shoulders. "Quatre, I told you that you could stay in my room. No one will disturb you."

He tried to say something, but he nearly doubled over with a coughing fit. Heero glared at me.

"What's going on, Wufei?" He demanded. I could not answer.

Quatre straightened back up. He wiped his streaming eyes on his damp sleeve. "Heero, I wish I could tell you, but you have to ask Duo." He sniffled like a child. "It isn't my fight any more." He slumped against me. It took me a shocked moment or two to realize that he was on the verge of collapsing.

I met Heero's burning blue eyes. "It isn't my fight either." I said coldly. "It's up to Duo and Trowa to explain. Now help me get him inside."

========================================================== 

Since Heero's arm was injured, I carried Quatre all the way back to the house. Not that he was much of a burden. His emotional state had rendered his appetite nearly nonexistent, and he had lost weight that he couldn't afford to lose. Heero walked point, holding the flashlight and guiding me through the wet darkness of the forest. When we arrived at the safehouse he threw the door open rather violently, making a very shocked Trowa and Duo spring several feet into the air from where they had been sitting on the sofa and watching a vid.

I was gratified to see them jump. I was even more gratified to see they were seated at opposite ends of the sofa.

Trowa's mouth dropped open when he saw me and who I was carrying.

"Quatre?" He gasped. He rushed to his erstwhile lover and practically tore him out of my arms. "Quatre, are you all right?"

Quatre fought like a wildcat to remove himself from Trowa's grip while Trowa used his considerable strength and agility to keep him there. In the end, Quatre won and was dumped rather hard on his back. "Don't touch me," he said in his rapidly fading voice. Trowa looked stricken.

Duo crawled off the sofa and put his hand on Quatre's shoulder. "Hey, little brother—" he started to say, but Quatre pulled away from him as if his touch burned.

"No, Duo." He looked away. "No."

I gathered Quatre's shivering body up in my arms and looked down at Duo. "He is no longer your brother." I said. "You have betrayed him."

"You have no right to say that!" Duo growled at me. The fury in his voice was no act. His eyes were fiery with it. "You pompous, judgmental asshole!"

He would have attacked me if Heero hadn't restrained him. "I have no idea what the hell's going on here," he said, glaring at Duo and Trowa, "but you two are going to sit down like civilized men and explain it to me right now." He glanced up at me. "Take care of Quatre. I need to know what's going on."

I nodded. It was time for him to know.

========================================================== 

I got Quatre undressed, waited while he bathed, tucked him into my bed, and then I debated whether to go back downstairs or not. It didn't take me long to decide that my presence would be superfluous at best. It wasn't my fight.

Besides, I was tired. It was an emotional rather than a physical fatigue, but still, I stretched out next to Quatre without bothering to get undressed, and I closed my eyes. I was a little bit startled when Quatre pressed up against me, but I didn't move away. He was looking for warmth, comfort. The least I could do was give it to him. I turned to my side and wrapped an arm around him, and he tucked his head under my chin. We fell asleep that way.

========================================================== 

It was a strange feeling, waking up with someone in my arms. Strange, but not unpleasant. I've slept alone my entire life, even during my brief marriage, and I've cultivated a taste for solitude, so the unfamiliar warmth and pressure of a living body against mine was an entirely new thing. I began to understand why humans tend to pair up.

After a few minutes, Quatre stirred and rolled away from me. His eyes opened and he looked around the room. "What am I doing here?" He asked in a rusty whisper.

"Sleeping, for once." I told him. I lay a hand on his forehead. "You should know better than to go running around in the rain with a fever. You've made yourself very sick." I couldn't keep the scolding tone out of my voice.

He sighed. "I know I've been an idiot, Wufei. You don't have to remind me." His voice was gone; he couldn't raise it above that harsh whisper.

"If it's any consolation, you aren't the only idiot around here. In fact, you have some pretty stiff competition." I tightened my arm around him briefly.

He shook his head a little, not in denial, but in disbelief. "How did things go downhill so fast?" He wondered aloud.

"Shh. Rest your voice." I rolled off the bed with some regret and rummaged through my duffle bag till I found my medkit and a bottle of water. I gave Quatre some aspirin. "I'm hungry. I'm going downstairs. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

He shook his head. "I want to sleep a little more." He burrowed back down into the blankets.

"All right." Before I knew I was doing it, I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. I didn't think about it, I just did it. 

When I pulled back, I saw that Quatre looked as shocked as I felt. That's when I knew exactly how out of character the gesture was—Quatre is _used_ to being kissed.

What the hell just happened?

I felt a blush of confusion spreading across my cheeks. "Gomen, Quatre," I said, and fled like a coward.

========================================================== 

Why couldn't the scientists have let us stay in one of the Winner estates? The house we were quartered in was large enough so that we didn't get in each other's way, but it definitely wasn't large enough to have many hiding places, nor any alternate routes. If I wanted food, and I did, I was going to have to take the only staircase, walk through the only dining room, and go into the only kitchen. And of course, we being teenage boys, the kitchen is a very popular room.

I suppose I should have counted my blessings that only Heero was there. He was leaning against the sink methodically working his way through a bowl of the type of cereal that's all fiber and vitamins. We grunted morning greetings at each other.

"Where are Duo and Trowa?" I asked, rummaging around in the refrigerator for something edible and composing a mental grocery list.

"Duo's out riding the motorcycle and Trowa went back to his room after breakfast. How's Quatre?"

"The same. I'm going to have to go to town and get some medicine for him." I settled on an egg for breakfast.

"Hn." Heero crunched on another mouthful of cereal. He looked a little pale, and his eyes had a weird, staring aspect to them. He obviously hadn't slept well.

I found a frying pan and let it heat up on the stovetop. "How did your talk go last night?"

"They told me everything." He said. He crunched his cereal annoyingly.

I sighed. "_And_?" Getting personal information from Heero is like pulling teeth.

He shrugged. "Quatre was two days late from his mission. They thought he was dead. They were both upset, so they slept together. It won't happen again." He summarized it as neatly and as dryly a mission report.

"You don't seem angry." I commented.

"I'm not." He looked at me directly for the first time, and I could see the emotions shifting in his eyes, behind that cold mask. "I can't pretend to know what they were feeling, Wufei, so I can't judge them like you can."

I snorted. "So it was just a mutual pity fuck, then?" Damn Maxwell's corrupting influence on my vocabulary! I scrambled my egg viciously.

"That's right. That's all it was." Crunched Heero. "Trowa's depressed." He added.

Oh, was he now. Poor Trowa. I shoved the mangled egg onto a plate and began to eat it.

"I'm worried about him." Heero said quietly.

I glanced out the window, half expecting the Horsemen of the Apocalypse show up under a blood-red sky. "You're…worried?"

"Yes, I'm worried." He emphasized the last word just a bit. "He thinks he's lost your respect, and he thinks he's lost Quatre, period."

"He thinks correctly, then."

Heero shook his head slightly, as if he was trying to get his brain to settle down. "I'm worried because I know that if I ever thought I'd lost Duo, I'd…I don't know what I would do."

I sighed. "Drama doesn't sit well on you, Yuy."

"I'm not being dramatic, I'm being honest." He dumped his cereal bowl in the sink. "Look, Wufei, you've been isolating Quatre from the rest of us long enough. He only knows half the story, the half that's killing him. He deserves to hear Trowa's side. Now I know you're too damn stubborn to let Trowa or Duo anywhere near him, but what about me? Can I talk to him?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "What are you planning on telling him?"

He unconsciously mimicked my posture. "Exactly what Duo and Trowa told me last night. I'll tell him about how scared they were, and how they were practically in mourning for him. About how they didn't have anyone to turn to for comfort but each other. About how they felt when Quatre came back and rejected them both. About how much they love him and miss him and want his forgiveness. Is that enough?"

I rubbed my fingers over my forehead. How could I say no to that request? "All right, Heero, you can talk to him, but don't upset him and don't expect him to talk back—he has laryngitis."

Heero snorted. "I'll try not to upset him, but expecting Quatre not to talk is a little like expecting Duo not to talk. Quatre just makes more sense."

That was true. We shared a smile, then we trooped upstairs to my room.

========================================================== 

I've known Heero a long time, but it still shocks me when I see him being gentle. I have to admit that Maxwell has had quite an effect on him. 

He sat down on my bed next to Quatre and stroked his cheek very lightly to wake him up. He didn't stop when Quatre opened his eyes—Heero was almost petting him, trying to soothe him for what was coming, I suppose.

"Heero?" Quatre whispered when he woke up and focused.

"Hn. You're not supposed to talk, Quatre." Heero smoothed back the blond bangs and stroked Quatre's forehead with a callused thumb. "I know you aren't feeling well and I'm sorry I had to wake you, but I had some things I wanted to tell you."

Quatre nodded for him to continue, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"First of all, I want you to know that I found out what happened. I had a long talk with Duo and Trowa last night."

Tears welled up in Quatre's eyes. I sat down on his other side and put a hand on his shoulder. "Quatre, hear him out. There's no need to get upset."

He looked at me for a long time, perhaps trying to gauge my sincerity, or perhaps just trying to draw reassurance from the only ally he thought he had, before he nodded at Heero again.

Heero licked his lips. "They told me that when you didn't return on time from your last mission, they started to panic. They didn't know about OZ's security upgrades. They thought you had been captured…or worse. There was no way to contact you, or even to find out where you had gone. They think very highly of your skills, so when you didn't return, they assumed something had gone very, very wrong. Do you understand?"

Quatre nodded. A tear spilled from his eye, and Heero wiped it away.

"So, you were gone, they were half-mad with worry, and they looked for comfort in each other. You are very important to both of them, and they thought they had lost you. They had sex, Quatre, and it was wrong, but it was what they thought they needed at the time. Do you know what I'm saying? They had _sex_, they didn't make love. Do you understand the difference?"

"Of course I do," Quatre rasped out, and Heero put a finger on his lips.

"You have to stay quiet or Wufei here will kick me out before I'm finished." He said, and Quatre smiled faintly. "When you found them, and then ran away, they were devastated. Part of it was guilt over what they had done, but most of it was because they felt rejected by you. They told me that they both love you very much, and it was hurting them to know that you were in pain, but they couldn't do anything about it. Wufei was trying to protect you, and wouldn't let them go anywhere near you. They had no chance to explain. Well, I made them explain it to me, and now I'm explaining it to you."

Quatre appeared to be thinking it over. Heero stroked his forehead gently and let him digest the information until he nodded again.

"Trowa is very upset." Heero continued. "He barely comes out of his room any more. Mentally, he's beating himself senseless because he thinks it's all his fault that you're ill."

Quatre shook his head.

"I know. I don't like it either. But he loves you, and we tend to take the blame when the people we love are hurt. You of all people should know that."

We all developed identical smiles. Guilt is one of Quatre's more well-used emotions. According to Duo, Quatre blames his own lack of effort for the reason there's no air in outer space. He might have been joking, but who knows?

Heero's next question shocked me. He turned to Quatre and stared into his eyes. "Would you like to go see him?"

For the first time in nearly a week, Quatre gave a real smile. He nodded shyly and started to sit up, but the color drained from his face as he did.

"I'll carry you." I offered. "You look a little wobbly."

He nodded at me gratefully and let me pick him up. He weighed far too little; we were going to have to fix that.

Heero led the way to the door of Trowa's room and knocked on it sharply. "Trowa, you have a visitor!" He called when the knock wasn't answered immediately.

There was a deep silence, then I distinctly heard the sound of a book being closed. The door cracked open, and one green eye peered out curiously. "A visitor?"

I stepped into his field of view. "Open the door, Barton. I'm sick of having my bed cluttered up with blond billionaires."

Quatre smiled and raised a hand to Trowa in greeting.

Trowa nearly tore the door off its hinges. "Quatre!" He grabbed him out of my arms and crushed him in a hug.

"Easy, Barton! He's sick, remember?" I said impatiently, although judging from the expression on Quatre's face, he didn't really mind.

"Oh, Quatre, I'm sorry. Are you all right?" He pressed his lips to Quatre's forehead. "God, you're warm. Let's get you to bed, love." Trowa paused to kick the door closed in our faces before he started his relieved babbling up again.

"Well, that's one down." Heero said.

========================================================== 

I'd forgotten Duo. That was bad. One simply does not leave Duo out of the equation; he's too much of a wild card. Heero and I sat at the table drinking coffee and waiting for him to come back from his joyride.

I suddenly thought about Trowa and laughed.

"What?" Heero asked me.

"Trowa, babbling," I said, and he laughed too.

"Maybe I shouldn't have told him to follow his emotions after all. He's turning into a lunatic."

I laughed harder.

"What's so funny?" Called a familiar voice from the front room. It was Duo.

"Nothing. It's just that Trowa is very happy and it's rather amusing," I snickered.

Duo entered the kitchen, trying vainly to smooth down his windblown bangs. "Yeah? T-bird's happy? What…" he stopped short and his violet eyes flew wide open. "Quatre?"

Heero and I both nodded and watched in alarm as Duo vacillated between breaking into a huge grin or bursting into tears. Eventually, though a miracle that only Duo could pull off, he did both.

========================================================== 

Before Duo had entirely managed to compose himself, Trowa came down the stairs carrying Quatre in his arms. "I don't want him out of bed," he said when he saw the hard looks Heero and I were giving him, "but he insisted on seeing Duo."

Trowa had bundled Quatre up in flannel pajamas and a too-large bathrobe that I expect belonged to the taller boy. Quatre was struggling to keep a pair of Trowa's fleece slippers on his feet, much to his apparent annoyance. It was hard to believe that the tiny, tousled boy was a fearless killer.

Duo looked up from where he was having his little emotional display and nearly broke down again when he saw his friends. "Quatre…"

Trowa sat down with the blond on his lap, and Duo rushed over to bury his head in Quatre's lap. "Oh God, Quat, can you ever forgive me?"

Quatre tangled his fingers into Duo's hair in response, and Duo really _did_ break down all over again. He wrapped his arms around Quatre's waist and practically howled out his relieved tears while Quatre soothed him. It was quite an amazing display. I felt tired just watching it.

"Duo…" Quatre whispered. "It's all right. Calm down."

Duo's emotional tsunami calmed down to mere breakers. "You sure, Quat?"

Quatre nodded and smiled. Duo seemingly couldn't get enough of the attention he was getting, though, and he clung to Quatre like a braided limpet while Quatre stroked his hair and rubbed his back. I was wondering just how much that braided idiot could soak up when Quatre sneezed, sending Trowa straight into mother-hen mode.

"Okay, that's enough. Back to bed." He stood up, still holding Quatre, and Duo was dumped unceremoniously to the floor.

========================================================== 

I don't know how Quatre kept sane for the next two days. Trowa and Duo wouldn't let him get out of bed. They wouldn't let him talk. They practically force-fed him until he was something close to his normal weight. They flew into hysterics if he so much as sniffled. I, personally, would have snapped.

He bore it with his usual diplomacy, and eventually his fever broke and he was allowed to get up, but not to go outside. They had hidden his clothes. He was forced to wander around in pajamas and bathrobe, although he had managed to talk Trowa out of wearing the too-large slippers.

He found me in the front room, where I was trying without much success to light a fire. "Hi, Wufei," he said, sounding like his voice was changing all over again. It was cracking on every other syllable, but at least he could speak.

"So they finally let you out of bed?"

He let out a snort of laughter. "They mean well, but I was going stir crazy." He knelt down beside me and took the matches out of my hand. Examining my pile of paper, kindling and small branches, he made a few minor adjustments and then touched a lit match to a few places. In less than a minute he had accomplished what I'd been struggling with for over an hour. The fire had sprung to life.

"You will have to show me how you did that, Winner." I said.

He shrugged, and the shoulder of the too-large bathrobe and pajamas slid off his shoulder. "Nomadic heritage." He said, tugging the wayward nightclothes back into place. "Try doing it with half-dried camel dung."

I didn't want to ask. We sat in companionable silence for a while.

"Wufei?" He said after a few minutes of silent contemplation.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

My heart felt full and warm. "You're welcome, Quatre."

~~END~~


End file.
